


Soused

by Jmetropolis



Category: Tangled (2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 03:32:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jmetropolis/pseuds/Jmetropolis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A newlywed Eugene and Rapunzel deal with an unexpected situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soused

**Soused**

He had learned she was a screamer. He had learned that lesson the first time they spent the night together when he had hurriedly seized her lips in a panic trying to muffle her loud cries. He hadn't wanted the guards barging in on them. Not that night, not in that compromising position.

It wasn't that he wasn't supposed to be in her bedroom at that late hour. To the contrary, he was _expected_ to be there and expected to do exactly what he was doing. In fact, it was the only official duty of his newly minted title of Prince Consort to the Princess of Corona. He was sure his new in-laws would delegate to him additional duties; they weren't going to just let him prance around the corridors of the castle like some prized stud or preening peacock for very long. But the honeymoon period had just begun and it had been his wedding night. He had no place else he had to be, nothing else he had to do, but be there, alone with his princess and she was finally that, _his_.

 _No_ , for once he hadn't been afraid of getting caught by the guards because he was doing something illicit. Rather, he hadn't wanted them to barge in on this most intimate of moments because they had mistook Rapunzel's enraptured wails for a sign that her life was in danger. Eugene had evaded the guards for a good decade before hanging up his satchel and retiring his libelous wanted posters; they never once got his nose right. He knew from personal experience that the King's men weren't a particularly bright lot.

Nobody gets it right the first time. Not even a seasoned pro like the former Flynn Rider. Rapunzel had been nervous, which was understandable. _Hell_ , he had been nervous too. He may have done this enough times to make a call girl blush, but he had never done this with her. He had never done this with someone he loved. He may have been far removed from a virgin, but the first time he made love to a woman was still on his wedding night.

For her part, Rapunzel had been the quintessential blushing bride, complete with a kaleidoscope of butterflies in her stomach that made her knees knock and her teeth chatter. Her nervousness had caused her to tense up in his arms and he had tried his best to help her relax. He had pulled her soft warm hands and placed them on his own body, suppressing a pleasured groan as he reacted to her touch for the very first time. He had wanted her to see that it was just skin, like the rest of him and nothing to be afraid of. He could tell when her already large emerald eyes grew even bigger and her rosebud lips parted in astonishment, that this gesture had had the opposite effect than what he had intended.

Superhuman good looks weren't the only things he'd been blessed with and he spent the next few minutes trying to assure her that yes, it would most definitely fit. He had tested this theory out many, many times, but he felt it crass to remind her of that on their first night together as husband and wife. He had always been honest with her about his past conquests. The task had been a lot easier early on in their courtship when after much trepidation he had confessed to her that he had "been" with a lot of women before her. He thought she took the news surprisingly well and that he was in the clear until a few months later when her mother - her real mother, not that witch who raised her - explained to her what that actually meant.

He had thought that maybe he was going about this the wrong way and rather than unintentionally intimidating his inexperienced princess with his natural endowments, he would help her relax the only other way he knew how, with his practiced hands and his overattentive mouth. It hadn't taken long for her to turn into a gelatinous pile of shivering limbs under his skilled touch, mewling his name as she was hit with wave after wave of radiating warmth. He hadn't earned his reputation with the ladies for nothing.

Still, when it came time for the act itself, she tensed up again. He was as gentle as he could possibly be, but there was no way around this painful right of passage. Her body needed to adjust and to accommodate him and there was only one way to do that.

He took no pleasure in hurting her on their wedding night, but soon practice lead to blissful perfection in those feverish first few months of their nuptials.

Still, it wasn't until they had done this quite a few times, gotten to know each other's preferences and found their own rhythm that it happened. He felt her blindly pawing the mattress below them afterwards.

"Eugene," she said, her voice having grown small and timid.

"Hmm?" He was so spent, he could hardly form words as he scooped her in his warm arms and flipped both of them over so that she was now draped over his firm chest.

"The bed's wet," she said quietly, gaving him an embarrassed wince before trying to hide her face in his collarbone.

"So?" He said casually as if she'd reported to him that it was almost dawn and that meant the sun would come up soon.

" _No_ , what I mean is . . . I think _I_ wet the bed," she explained, still hiding her face from him. "I'm sorry," she added.

Eugene knew that wasn't the case. That wasn't what she had done. He'd been there, he'd felt it. It had triggered his own release. He had also been with enough women to recognize it for what it was and to know that this was something some women were able to do on occasion. It wasn't something you called them out on or demanded they repeat on cue to stroke a fragile male ego. He wasn't even going to say anything about it to her in case it embarrassed her.

He wedged a hand under either side of her axillae and pried her off of him so he could look at her, although he didn't need to see her to know that the color on her face rivaled Pascal's when the frog would catch them kissing behind the rose bushes and turn red.

The sun's rays were starting to creep over the horizon and there was enough light coming in through the large french doors that led to their balcony, that he could make out the features of her beautiful face.

"Rapunzel," he tried searching her eyes, but she wouldn't look at him, "you didn't wet the bed. That's not what happened. You had a different kind of climax, that's all."

When he told her this, he noticed her eyes trailing down to the offending spot.

"I do it every time we're together and you don't freak out about it," he reminded her, craning his neck and tilting his head trying to get into her line of sight.

"I freaked out the first time," she corrected.

Eugene smiled as he recalled the moment she was referring to. It had been the morning after their wedding by the time they had finished and he had sat her on the bed and had gone to retrieve a damp washcloth from their bathroom. When he had returned he crouched down between the slender legs that were hanging over the edge of the bed, resting he knees on the floor, and gently began wiping away the remnants of the night before. As he did so, he had placed not so innocent kisses on her inner thighs. She had moaned softly and the sound made his body ache for another go, but he knew she was sore and there was no way he was going to put her through that again before she'd had a chance to recover.

She had suddenly looked down at his ministrations with pleasured, half lidded eyes, when he heard her gasp. The sound had made him jerk back and had caused his stomach to dropped. He had thought he'd brushed over a really tender spot and unintentionally hurt her. "Wh-, what is that?" He had heard her exclaim when she had noticed that the remnants of her innocence were not the only thing he'd been wiping away from her with the washcloth. He had realized then that perhaps the queen's premarital chat with Rapunzel had omitted some very important parts or maybe she had described the process demurely, in terms so abstract that Rapunzel had failed to grasp the concept. He had explained to her then, the mechanics of his own release in terms that were much more hands-on and concrete. He could see now that he needed to explain this corollary response too.

"Some women do it too, sometimes," he told her as he pushed himself up, putting both him and her into a sitting position and she wrapped her slender legs around his waist. His large hands were still under her arms and his thick fingers were splayed over her shoulder blades supporting her.

She scrunched up her nose in a gesture that told him she wasn't entirely happy with this bit of news and she furrowed her delicate brows like she was deciding whether this was one secret society she even wanted a membership to.

"It doesn't bother me," he added quickly. "In fact, I think it's kinda hot," he admitted.

"You do?" She asked incredulously.

" _Yeah_ , I find every time you let go incredibly hot," he confessed. It wasn't a big secret. He thought it was pretty obvious that he loved when she would fall apart in his arms.

"Even this time?"

"Yes." _Especially this time_ , he thought. He didn't want to broadcast this fact to her because he didn't want her to feel pressured to do this every time. He wanted her to relax and focus on how good it felt when they were together and not worry about whether it would happen or not happen again.

"But it was so . . . messy this time," she protested.

"It's always sticky and messy," he reminded her, threading one arm through the space under her arm, so that he could free up his other hand and tuck a loose strand of short, chocolate locks behind her right ear.

"Usually, it's mostly my mess and this time you . . . _added_ to it. It doesn't bother me," he assured her.

"Was it unpleasant for you?" He asked, knowing the answer full well, but trying to drive the point home for her.

She shook her head.

"Did it still feel amazing?"

She gave him a timid grin at first, but then nodded enthusiastically. The gesture made him chuckle. It didn't matter that they were married, that she was straddling his waist, and that there wasn't a scrap of fabric between then, she still managed to retain a bit of shyness around him when they talked about stuff like this.

"Well then, that's all I care about," he told her.

". . . But what about the wet spot?" She asked, biting her lower lip.

"It'll dry before the chambermaids come in to change the sheets. I'm not worried about it."

He scooted both of them over on their enormous four-poster bed so that they were no longer on top of the same damp spot. "There. Problem solved," he told her as he laid both of them back down on the side of the bed that hadn't been warmed by the body heat they had generated.

She shivered as she pushed her body closer to his and he ran his hands up and down her sides, trying to warm her up.

Running his calloused fingers over her soft skin was causing his own body to react and he suspected it was having the same effect on hers because she lifted her head and captured his lips. She kissed him hard, with an urgency he had been hoping to work his way up to, but hadn't expected quite yet. She ran her lithe fingers through his thick hair and moaned into his mouth so that the room and the outside world and everything that wasn't him and her faded into the background. Soon they were too preoccupied to worry about unexpected wet spots and impromptu anatomy lessons.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt fill for DisneyKink on LiveJournal. The original prompt was this: "Flynn makes Rapunzel squirt, timeline or universe is in hands of the writer."


End file.
